The Story Left Untold
by NotMarge
Summary: Raven returns to Xavier Manor after the Paris debacle. Hank POV. Based on a deleted scene from X-Men: DoFP. Chapter 4 begins AU.
1. Caught by Surprise

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Two weeks 'til DVD release though!

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 1: Caught by Surprise

* * *

He stood in his laboratory, wondering what he could do, should do, here.

And whether any of it mattered at all.

If the current of the river of time was flowing the way it appeared to be, everything was doomed anyway.

And so were they.

All because of her.

Raven.

Once a beautiful, smiling young woman with an extraordinary mutant shape shifting ability now evolved into a nearly unrecognizable creature hell bent on murder, destruction.

The murder of the scientist Bolivar Trask.

And the destruction of the entire world for the sake of the mutant species.

And she couldn't even see it.

Raven, consumed by her terrible self-assigned mission of killing Bolivar Trask.

Raven, who plowed through those who stood in her way like a blue, scaly demon.

He remembered her differently.

The way she used to be.

Her smile.

Her laughter.

Her delight.

Her vivacious energy.

Her _hope_.

It seemed to be all gone now.

_What happened to you, Raven?_

But he knew the answer.

Erik Lensherr.

He had begun worming his way into her thought processes and her open heart from the first moment he'd met her.

And when everything went south and all lay in ruins, he had summoned Raven to him on the beach.

And she had gone.

He, Hank, had seen no plausible way to stop her.

And Charles Xavier, her mutant brother, had let her go. Practically given her his blessing.

_What had he been _thinking_?_

Sometime between then and now, Erik had twisted Raven's beauty, her passion.

Twisted it all around and set her on a darker path.

And now she was this . . . thing.

This stranger.

And Hank didn't want her to be.

He felt weak all of a sudden, overwhelmed. Like everything was too much to bear. Like he was going to simply crumble under the weight of it all.

Slowly and with great self control, he reached out and placed his palms flat on the smooth, cool, metal of the shiny worktable.

Hung his head.

And took a deep, stabilizing breath. Trying to think.

"Hello, Hank."

* * *

Now here they were.

In this dim space, dusty light filtering through in through the grimy windows.

The four of them.

Charles, Logan, and Hank.

All staring at her.

Raven.

Blond, pale, svelte.

Raven.

Suddenly dropped back into their lives. Like a live bomb.

And blew up Hank's entire world.

He stood as still as he could, arms folded casually, protectively, across his chest. He leaned back against a countertop, grateful that it gave him support to remain still and upright.

Raven sat in a chair, facing them. Charles and Logan.

Hank remained off to the side.

He didn't want to talk with her, interact, engage, any of it.

He didn't.

And he did.

He didn't want to look at her.

He didn't want to speak to her.

He didn't even want to be in the same room with her.

And he did.

What he really wanted to do was fade into the paneling.

Close his eyes and pretend he wasn't there.

But he was in this. He was a part of it.

Whether he wanted to be or not.

So he stuck.

He stayed. Arms crossed over his thin human chest.

She had just conveyed her commitment to her mission of killing Trask. Relayed it in such a calm, easy tone to them. As if she had just spoken of her need to wash a load of dirty laundry.

Hank forced himself to speak to her in an equally calm voice.

The voice of logic, of reason.

As if she had _ever_ bothered to listen to _that_.

But still, he had to try.

"But if you kill Trask, there'll be ten more just like him."

She was not so easily deterred.

But she _was_ getting annoyed.

"Then I'll kill them too. And anyone who comes next."

_Who _are_ you? You speak of murder as if it's a household chore. Vacuum, dust, kill Trask. Take out the trash, wipe down the counters, kill Trask. What have you become, Raven?_

Logan, the future man who had started this entire thing, apparently had had enough polite conversation.

"Look, let's just cut to the chase here," he addressed Raven brusquely. "I _know_ how all this ends. 'Cause I've seen you in the future."

She shifted her veiled, suspicious gaze to him and held her ground.

"Yeah, what am I like?" she challenged.

Logan met her scrutiny without blinking. And told her.

Hank's protective nature bristled instinctively at the gruff response.

"Hey . . ."

_No call to direct that sort of language at her, Logan._

_Grrr . . ._

_Well, who _cares_ if it's true? He shouldn't . . . _

_Grrr . . ._

He sighed internally.

_Okay, fair point._

She seemed somewhat offended.

"Well, don't hold back."

But Logan wasn't done. He seemed to have found his one moment in time where he could vividly see averting the immutable river's current with words.

Which seemed impressive to Hank because Logan appeared to prefer punching things (people) more.

"By the time they finish you, _and_ _they_ _finish_ _you_," Logan emphasized. "You've killed so much you are knee deep in human and mutant blood. . . "

Hank's entire body ran ice cold, dunked abruptly into a chilling deep freeze as the hideous image rose behind his bespectacled eyes.

Raven, beautiful Raven, bathed in the blood of guilty and innocent alike. Face twisted in misery and anguish. Arms thrown out wide, beseeching the heavens for mercy.

For freedom.

For absolution.

For peace.

Pale and blond or blue and red, he didn't want that future for her.

Or any of them.

". . . you don't even know who you are," Logan concluded.

The words hung heavy in the air and on them like weights on drowning, helpless supplicants. Covering them, suffocating them, in the undeniable horror of what could be.

What for Logan was, and had been a stark, inescapable reality.

But Raven, willful Raven, was stubborn and proud.

And not easily dissuaded.

Just as she had been deep inside when Hank had first met her.

Before Erik.

Now, compounded more so.

"Well, maybe there wouldn't be so much mutant blood if we made our move _now_," she shot back at Logan.

That was it. She had come to them, these three men, to plead her case, request their help. These men, two of which had always come running to her beck and call. She had asked them for their help. She wanted them to know, understand her side. Help her in her mission to save the mutants of the world from the driven, well mannered, diminutive monster Trask.

It wasn't going so well.

Her statement raised the ire of Charles, the wheelchair bound, ragged-looking telepath.

"These are Erik's words, not yours," he declared gently. "Besides . . ."

And as Charles declared her intended actions to be exactly what Trask wanted, Hank saw it all.

So very clearly.

She was going to do it.

She was going to kill Trask.

Just as he had predicted.

They could not stop her.

Or this war.

The ruin of humanity, of the mutiny species, of the entire world.

The river of time was too powerful. The current would not be changed.

They were going to fail.

* * *

**Hello, all! **

**How do you turn two minutes and fifty seconds of a deleted scene into a multi-chapter fic? Just keep writing I suppose! But hey, what else was I to do? _Not_ write? *shrugs sheepishly**

**Anyway, the first part of this chapter is all me. And the second part is from a deleted scene of DoFP. Thanks to brigid1318 for alerting me to its internet existence. Bless you, my dear, I haven't slept properly in days.**

**The deleted scene continues and concludes in the next chapter.**

**Oh and if you haven't seen the pic that goes with this fic (yay! I rhymed!) then check it out. I think it's perfection.**

**Everybody likes feedback. Leave a review if you like.**


	2. Reality Slipped Askew

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Two weeks 'til DVD release though!

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 2: Reality Slipped Askew

* * *

And Raven of course rose to the occasion. Fueled as always by her own personal woes.

"You think they _need_ a reason?" she asked her once mutant brother, her voice rising slightly. "Do you _honestly_ think they'll ever able to see me like this . . ."

She suddenly morphed into her natural blue form and Hank once again was caught unprepared and unawares.

_Oop and she's naked again._

Logan apparently was used to seeing her this way. He was the only one who didn't flinch and look away. Charles reflexively shook his head, waved his hand, and averted his gaze in embarrassment.

And Hank attempted to become one with the paneling again.

While Raven continued her verbal onslaught.

" . . . and feel anything but fear?"

_Well, _I_ feel something other than fear. But I'd rather not talk about it. If it's all the same to you._

He remembered when he used to recite unusual and complicated words to control his bodily reactions. That Hank would have never survived this reveal. He would have simply faceplanted the floor.

"_You_ can't even look at me," she challenged the long haired, paisley-shirted man.

_Well, _I_ can. But I'm trying not to. Honest._

"That is not true," Charles insisted, bravely gazing straight at her.

From the neck up.

Then she morphed back . . .

_Oh thank science_, Hank thought and felt an instant surge of guilt at the betrayal.

. . . into her human form and continued her entreaty.

And her words rang true in Hank's ears.

As much as he wished he could deny otherwise.

"I can hide like you," she explained sincerely to Charles. "But what about the ones who _can't_?"

Them. Yes. The vulnerable. The lost. The exposed.

She exposed her true form when she could. _Chose_ to embrace it. Because it was hers. And as a tribute, an honor, a reaching out, to those who couldn't hide.

_Mutant and proud._

Hank understood her reasoning now.

And he found it very brave and principled.

And distracting.

"I saw them in Vietnam. It's hard to hide your powers when you're getting shot at."

He thought of Alex. Was he okay?

". . . and the ones who couldn't hide became lab rats for Trask."

Raven plucked at Hank's laboring heart, made it burn and weep.

And Charles Xavier, the heroic gentleman, swooped in to save the day.

"I will _never_ let that happen to you," he insisted, leaning forward.

Hank nearly reached out and smacked the man upside his tangled brown head.

_Charles, you self-serving idiot, she's talking about something bigger than herself here! Aren't you _listening_? She's being self-sacrificial. Noble._

Hank remembered a time when he was the one set upon. By Alex.

And Raven, beautiful, young Raven was the only one who had come to his rescue.

And here she was, openly admitting she was doing it again.

On a much grander scale. To more needy mutants than would ever know she existed.

And with much more grim and inescapable consequences.

But the once wise Professor Charles Xavier couldn't see past his own nose and turned the conversation once more toward himself. Verbalizing his regret of his own personal failings to her.

_Thank you, martyr Chuck. Oh shut up, won't you?_

Hank allowed himself to look upon Raven.

He was swept away by renewed compassion and renewed understanding.

Renewed respect.

Renewed love.

Though he didn't want to.

And he did.

He was dimly aware his chest was slowly heaving, that he was struggling to contain all his roiling emotions, feeling his insides swell to bursting.

_To make things different. Oh, if only I could make things different for you. Even if it didn't involve me. I would. I swear I would. But then, you wouldn't be the amazing creature you are now. Willing to sacrifice yourself and so many others for the good of the entire world. _

And Charles, poor, blinded, serum-hungry Charles then spoke pitifully of her leaving home. As if she were a child. Or a beloved canine companion run off.

But Raven, wise Raven.

She knew better.

She shrugged and spoke again, almost tenderly. Softening to the man who had loved her so and had first accepted her, given her a home.

"I couldn't stay here forever, Charles."

From the corner of his eye, Hank saw the telepath casually raise his right hand to his temple.

_No, no, no! Don't do that! She doesn't want that! You're going to drive her away, you idiot!_

And Raven slammed the table with her fist in anger and leapt to her feet.

"That's why!" she spat, her gentleness evaporated and her fire returned full force.

Hank sighed again internally.

_Way to go, jackass._

Charles immediately crumpled. Pleading, begging, apologizing, groveling.

But Raven, like Hank, was all done with the man's self-absorbed idiocy.

_I'm about to come with you, Raven. I swear to science I am. But . . . no killing, okay? No, probably wouldn't work, huh?_

As she stood near the stairs, deflating her mutant brother's sniveling petitions, Hank momentarily lost himself in her beauty.

The flowing blond hair. The sky blue eyes, wounded, so often wounded. The long sleeved half shirt, revealing an incredibly tight and toned physique. The long, strong thighs and calves draped in faded denim. Even her shoes, once used as metaphor for this perfect body on display . . .

". . . war," he caught her words and drew himself out of his reveries.

"How do you know?" he queried despite himself.

She looked directly at him, as though he might be the last sensible person left in the world.

He stalwartly held her gaze. It took all of his strength, but he did it.

"Because he told me," she replied simply.

_Oh. Well. Okay then. Fantastic._

And then she moved.

And he saw the masked pain in her limp.

Charles did too.

But it was Hank who spoke actual comprehensible words.

"When was the last time you changed your bandage?"

She stopped and looked at him unresponsively.

She was alone.

No one to care. Or so she thought.

Thought that what happened to her no longer mattered.

She had sacrificed her importance completely for the presumed good of others.

But he could see.

"On your leg?" he expounded.

Reaching out from the inside. Just a little. Though he held still on the outside.

She gazed at him, mute.

For once.

Giving Charles the perfect opportunity to speak up with all the authority of a controlling big brother.

"Hank is going to see to your leg," he announced with finality.

_Uh, no. Charles? Shut up. I _asked_. I didn't _volunteer_. _

"Uh, I don't . . ."

He started to protest but Charles was an unstoppable blathering force on wheels. Literally.

Pouncing on the idea of helping her. To help her, yes, no doubt about that. But also as a way to keep her here. Under his roof. Under control.

_Shut up, you fool, you're going to drive her away again!_

"Hank," Charles reasserted, glancing dismissively at Hank now caught floundering in his verbal trap. "Yes, you are."

_I'm not your dancing monkey boy, Chuck._

And Hank looked to Raven, alarmed, almost trying to relay a silent apology.

Though a hidden part of him desperately wanted to stay in her presence just a little while longer.

And was absolutely terrified by the notion.

Then Charles the idiot called her 'my girl' which prompted Raven's rejection which prompted Charles to ignore it completely and offer her untouched room to her as if she'd never spoken at all.

_Oh Charles, you serum-head, you really _are_ stupid. I am so embarrassed and ashamed. At least I am hiding my idiocy. Barely. You're just throwing yours everywhere like a simian with his feces, aren't you?_

And then Charles turned himself onto Hank.

"Hank, go."

Hank tried to refuse again.

"Charles, I don't . . ."

. . . _want to_ . . .

_. . . think _she_ wants me to . . ._

_Why are we suddenly being treated like misbehaving, defiant children in your eyes? I'm a big, blue beast for crying out loud. _

And then Charles completely shamed Hank even further by throwing him under the bus of desperate longing.

Aloud.

Quietly, but aloud.

"Go on, you know you want to."

_Didn't even have to read my mind for that little nugget, did you, you son of a –_

_Grrr . . ._

_Yes, I know it's _that_ obvious, thank you. Look at the miserable hidden compassion on Logan's hairy face over there. The point _is_, my dear Beastie, did he have to say it out _loud_? Telepathic little freak . . ._

And as Hank was struggling to contain yet another emotional crisis, Raven spoke again.

This time to Charles.

"I don't blame Erik for trying to kill me."

_Wthf? I do._

"I would have done the same thing," she replied darkly.

And headed up the stairs.

_She really would have. Wow._

_And I would too. If I was like her. _

_But I'm not._

_I'm only me._

Charles, holding mulishly fast to that which he had committed himself and Hank, spoke one final directive.

"Go on, Hank."

And so for lack of a better contingency plan, Hank gave up and did.

* * *

****I once heard James McAvoy say 'I'm not your dancing monkey boy, pal' with a grin in an interview. So I had to put it here. 'Cause I love it!****

**Well, that concludes Hank's part in the deleted scene. There is a bit more with Charles and Logan. I'll address that in another fic. Of sorts.**

**But you know me. I can never leave well enough alone, can I?**

**So be ready for some Hank/Raven interaction. All me, not a deleted scene (that I know of) but I can't bear to wait for the DVD to discover what actually happens! That's like, **_**days**_** away!**

**Thanks to brigid1318 (and your sublimeness - it's a word now, shut up!) for revewing and thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul for adding your support. :)**

**My sincerest condolences to angeleye02 on your loss and I hope that you are being to heal, sweetie. ;_;**

**Also, not really sure why you are encouraging me to curse, but I cursed in this one if it makes you happy. **


	3. Internal Conflict

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Two weeks 'til DVD release though!

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 3: Internal Conflict

* * *

_Grrr . . ._

_No, I am not running after her. I'm . . . following behind at a brisk pace._

_Grrr . . ._

_Oh, go to H-_

And then he almost ran into her well-formed denim-clad backside.

And decided to stop arguing with himself.

_Oh, man, I hate this. Wish I was Catholic. A few 'Hail Marys' and this'd all be over._

At the top of the stairs, she turned and stared silently at him. He felt like a wild animal caught in the crosshairs of a gun.

She was gorgeous, beautiful.

And angry.

_Of course. What else would she be?_

But it was her.

Raven.

And she was in pain.

Hurting.

The wound could get infected.

She could get sick.

She could die.

And whatever else he wanted, he didn't want that.

She was so focused on her mission that she couldn't see.

But he could.

He could help.

So he stood his ground, not backing down from her searing glare.

"I have medical supplies in my lab," he offered, trying not to sound awkward. "And extra for you to take with you."

She remained affixed to that spot for a moment as if deciding her course of action. Formulating her strategy. Weighing her options.

And then resolutely turned and walked away.

Toward the his lab.

And he followed behind.

_Like a begging little puppy._

_Grr . . ._

_Fine, begging little 'beast'. Whatever._

And he hated himself.

But he went anyway.

* * *

He didn't _want_ to touch her.

And at the same time, he did.

Under the intense duress of having her so near yet so very far away after years and years apart, Hank McCoy did the only thing he could.

He locked up every single emotion he had ever felt in his entire life in an impenetrable metal safe. Spun the lock tumblers, and threw the entire back-breakingly heavy contraption into the deep well in the pit of his soul.

Meanwhile, Raven sat down on a stool and reluctantly pulled up her pants leg.

Hank repressed a grimace.

The bandage seemed wilted and discolored.

And leaking.

He knelt, started to reach for the fabric covering her inner calf, and then paused.

Glanced up at her.

She nodded slightly, her face unreadable.

_So it takes ten years, attempted murder, and bullet wound for you to _finally_ let me touch you? Or are we going to talk about shoes again?_

He pulled back the bandage back as gently as he could.

She didn't flinch. Didn't move.

She also didn't breathe.

He inspected the area carefully with his gloved hands.

Wished there was no polymer between his fingertips and her calf.

And remembered that he didn't.

Then remembered he did.

_Man, I'm going to need a drink after this. _

The wound had been cleaned and cared for by a medical professional but that had been some time ago. The circular entrance wound was a little puffy and red but not so much that he fretted over it. A little disinfectant and some healing agent would clear it up and expediate the healing process. All protected under a sterile bandage.

Of course it would heal much easier if she would rest and stay off it.

That being said, he wasn't about to suggest tossing her over his shoulder and _carrying_ her to kill Trask either.

He reached for the medical supplies he had retrieved and began his work.

Silence hung between them like a heavy iron shroud.

_Iron. Huh. Well, hello, Erik. Glad you're here too. Even when you're not._

He tried to focus on his work, on the job at hand. Or leg, rather.

The silky, silky leg.

_Focus, McCoy._

_Grrr . . ._

_I'm _trying_, Beast. _

"It's going to get infected if you don't take care of it," he relayed to her without looking up.

'I'll be fine,' she muttered offhandedly. "Erik taught me to compartmentalize pain."

Hank McCoy kept his face a careful blank.

_Erik, yay. Did he also teach you to compartmentalize intelligence as well? Because if you don't take care of this you could get gangrene. And die._

He made sure it was properly cleaned and a healing agent applied. He affixed a fresh, clean bandage and secured it carefully.

The work completed, Hank removed his gloved hands from her physical person and stood.

"Thank you. That does feel better," she said, lowering her pants leg.

And looked up.

For an infinite second in time, their eyes met.

Blue to blue.

And he could see every single thing about her. The good and the bad. Everything she'd endured and felt and experienced.

And he felt she could see everything single thing about him as well.

He wanted her to.

And he didn't.

She was so different now.

And he missed her.

The her he had once begun to know, to care for.

The her he had hurt.

He had carried it inside him all this time.

He had never let it go, put it down. Not completely.

He had regretted it for so long.

Wondering if he would ever get a chance to apologize.

Not to ask her forgiveness. He didn't deserve it.

But to simply say he was sorry.

For his selfishness.

His ignorance.

His desperation.

His rashness.

His harsh words.

He had stopped hoping for that opportunity long ago.

Or thought he did.

But now she was here.

And he had his chance.

His chance to tell her he was sorry.

He opened his mouth.

"Raven . . ."

And then those sky blue eyes iced over again and the moment was gone.

"That's not my name anymore, Hank."

And she stood, withdrawn and reserved once more.

And walked away.

She was leaving again.

She was always leaving.

And once again he could not think of a single thing to say to stop her.

When her limping figure passed through the doorframe and disappeared from his sight, he felt completely destitute and forlorn.

_That's it. I'm getting plastered drunk._

But in the end, he didn't.

Because he was Hank McCoy.

And Hank McCoy was responsible, reliable, and in control.

And that really sucked.

* * *

**And that's that. **

**What'd ya think?**

**I've already got another fic in mind for this little deleted scene. Hello, obsession, thy name shalt be X-Men. And it's not Hank-centric. _*Gasp!_**

**Okay, a little explanation here. I originally had Hank think of OC Hope after Raven leaves. It was intended to make Hank feel guilty for revisiting feelings for Raven. But I don't think it came across properly (thank you my honest, helpful sweetie) so I took it out.**

**Anyway, thanks to brigid1318, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and DaniNatureGirl313 for speaking up. Thanks to you all quieter folks for reading as well. :)**

**Until next time . . .**


	4. Sliding Doors

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

**Hello! **

**Okay, I'm having a little derailment here. After some honest discussion and brain explosions (thank you, my brigid1318, for _that_), I'm doing something different. I'm going crazy AU and reversing back into the previous chapter to do it.**

**The consideration is: what if Hank and Raven's discussion in chapter 3 had gone a little differently? **

**So we're going back to the last chapter when Hank ticked her off by using her 'slave name'. Remember X-Men: Last Stand? And the CinemaSins guy? Heh heh. So anyway, she's mad (again) but this time Hank . . . oomph, spoilers!**

**Now, just to be clear, there is no OC Hope in this reality. I want to explore this idea but not at the cost of Hank abandoning (in his mind, cheating on) his relationship with Hope. So she doesn't exist here. I know, I'll miss her too, but give this a shot, yeah?**

**And of course, tell me what you think. Please.**

**That goes for you too, DaniNatureGirl313. Especially after your intelligent insights of the last chapter which play into this chapter. :)**

**Alrighty, here we go. **

* * *

Chapter 4: Sliding Doors

"Raven . . ." Hank began.

Then those sky blue eyes iced over again and the moment was gone.

"That's not my name anymore, Hank."

And she stood, withdrawn and reserved once more.

And walked away.

He had angered her again.

She was leaving. Again.

She was _always_ leaving.

And he could not stop her.

_My life consists of her walking away from me._

But maybe he could.

There was only one thing that would do it.

"Mystique . . ."

She paused and looked back, her suspicious eyes alert and warily curious.

He had never said that name before.

It felt strange upon his lips.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.

Then she started to turn away again.

"I never should have pushed you," he called out. "I never should have insulted the beauty of your blue form."

She remained as still as a frozen statue. Nothing moved. Not even her eyes. When she spoke, only her lips moved.

"No, you shouldn't have," she stated slowly." I would have stayed with you, you know. I would have been patient, I think. If you had only tried to accept me as I was."

He nodded.

"I know that now. I'm sorry."

He felt a dim loosening in his chest, followed by a formless sense of peace.

She nodded her acceptance and before she could turn away from him once more, he spoke again.

"Everything you are, then and now, is perfect."

She ghosted a crooked smile.

"Now you're just parroting my own words back to me."

He shrugged.

"It doesn't make them any less true."

She searched his marred soul with her eyes and he let her.

"Say something original," she challenged gently.

He didn't know what he was going to say. And then something deep within him slipped and he spoke earnestly.

"Take me with you."

Her sky blue eyes blinked in surprise. She chuckled in derision.

"No, Hank. I don't think so."

That locked safe full of his trapped emotions began springing little emotional leaks into the deep well pools of his soul. He could feel them reaching out to him, wrapping their tiny tendrils of illogical yearning all through his nerves and synapses.

The first sensation was a wilting despondency.

_But . . . why?_

Followed by a soul killing apathy.

_No, I guess not. You've got a mustached scientist to kill and Charles the lush requires my presence to enable him. _

Stomped underfoot by seething rage.

_What?! Willing to follow dear old Erik to the grave but won't give me one single chance?!_

When he spoke, his words were surprisingly calm and controlled in his pleadings.

"_Please_, let me come with you. I can't take it here anymore. It's miserable and insufferable. I've got to get away before I kill your brother or myself."

This time she did laugh a little and it was reminiscent of the woman whose sharp wit and honestly open demeanor had appealed to him in the first place.

"Figured Charles out then?"

Hank nodded urgently. His entire body felt like it was vibrating from within.

"He's worse now since . . . everything. I don't recognize him anymore. And I'm tired of trying to help him. To pacify him. I'm just . . . tired," he confessed.

Compassion and understanding flitted through the lovely blond form momentarily before she closed herself off again.

"I'm sorry you're unhappy and frustrated, Hank. Really I am. But the answer is no. You're not ready. You're not prepared."

Indignation shot to the surface and his face strained, his eyes shooting electric blue daggers at her.

"Were _you_? When you went with Erik that day on the beach? I _saw_ you. You were scared and timid and weak. He _only_ took you because he wanted you, because he took _pity_ on you and gave you a _chance_!"

Please_ give me a chance!_

She crossed her arms, becoming visibly ruffled. But also, was there a flicker of interest in this new aspect of him she was witnessing?

"Yes, but _I_ don't want _you_," she retaliated brusquely.

_Ouch. But fine._

He suspected she might just be trying to drive him away for her own reasons.

"I don't _care_ about that right now. I just need to get _away_!"

Now it was her turn to shrug.

"So go. Nobody's stopping you. Leave."

He shook his head in dismay.

"Not alone. I've _been_ alone. I don't _want_ to be alone anymore. _Please_."

She seemed to consider, then shook her head.

"No. You're not ready, Hank. Want to know why? 'Cause you still flinch when I do this . . ."

And she morphed into her natural blue form.

_Do not look away. Don't you dare. This is the moment to prove to her that you are sincere._

And so he did not flinch and cast his gaze away.

He looked straight at her.

Starting with her toes. Working slowly up her scaly naked body.

Letting her see him see.

Ending in her yellow eyes.

Then he spoke while holding her gaze.

"I look away now because I want to show respect for you as a person, not just for your body. I look away because you are primal in this form. And it calls to me. To my beast. I look away because it makes me want you."

_There, I said it._ _That's the most honest I've been in a long time._ _Maybe ever._

Her blue face was inscrutable.

And then she morphed back into her blond form.

"But you'd still prefer me like this."

A statement, not a question.

Hank shook his head. Gestured vaguely outward with his hands.

And spoke unreservedly once more.

"Only because it's the first form I saw you in. The first time I saw you smile. _At_ _me_. And my monkey feet. The first time I saw you laugh. You said I was 'amazing'. Nobody had ever said that to me before. And you looked like _that_ when you did it. When you almost kissed me. And when you defended me against Alex. When you sat on my lap. All those times, you looked like _that_. "

She pressed her lips together in a fine line. He continued.

"I . . . _imprinted_ on that version of you."

She waited.

"And I was young and stupid. And I'm sorry."

She watched him. Then spoke adamantly.

"I'm not that girl anymore, Hank."

He shrugged.

"I'm not that guy."

She squinted her eyes at him. He waited.

"But the answer is still no."

He felt like throwing her against a wall. His hands clenched. His teeth clenched.

He waited.

She spoke.

"You haven't accepted _yourself_, Hank. You still hide."

_Grrr . . ._

He growled deep in his chest. It was the voice of the Beast. The one he tried so hard to control_._

"That's not _all_ of me! It's just part! I wasn't this to _start_! My miscalculation enhanced my cells! I was only monkey toed and smart. Not hairy and blue! It's just _one_ part!"

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head up haughtily.

"So accept that one part."

And there it was. Either he would change and leave or remain the same and stay.

It was all him now.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, gathering his courage. Took off his glasses, and set them on the table.

Looked at her, her waiting expectantly.

Held that intense gaze.

_Okay, Beast. Come on._

_Grrr . . ._

_No, I will _not_ raise a curtain. You're not on stage. Just do it!_

And he did, growling and stretching a little at the sudden flow of strength and power and freedom.

The transformation complete, Hank McCoy, the Beast, lay his orange eyed gaze upon her.

Raven, Mystique.

She smiled, truly smiled, this time. And when she spoke, the smile was in her eyes as well.

"Perfection."


	5. Conversations on the Road

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 5: Conversations on the Road

* * *

"Just so you know, Hank. I'm still planning on killing Trask."

He didn't flinch. Or grimace. Or react at all.

The old Hank might have, at least on inside, but this new Hank couldn't allow himself to do that. She'd dump him on the side of the road without a second thought if she suspected he were going to try to abort her self-assigned mission.

Instead, he silently watched the road unwind before them. He had offered to fly them in Charles' jet (since he was going AWOL anyway, might as well go in style) but she had insisted they stay low-key.

They had walked straight out of Xavier Manor, gotten into Raven's rental car . . .

_Let Mr. Telepathy and Wolfy the Future Man figure it out. I'm all out of cares to give, man._

. . . and driven off down the driveway.

Hank had not looked back.

Ten long years and I'm not going to turn into salt now.

At the end of the long driveway, Raven had stopped the car.

"Hank?"

He'd been staring blindly at the trees, the sun, the clouds, everything.

It had seemed too bright, too flashing, too surreal.

And exhilarating.

At her voice, he had turned and looked at her. Back to blond.

"Yeah?"

Her blue eyes had flashed with a brief glint of amusement.

"I'm glad you're embracing your mutant side, but we're about to drive onto a main road. You might want to be human looking. I don't want to scare other drivers and have a wreck. We don't have swift mutant healing abilities."

_Well, on a cellular level, technically, we do. See, your leukocytes . . ._

Then he had decided he did not care not to lecture himself or her at that moment.

So he had let it go.

And it had felt . . . good.

To let go. To relax. To let someone else take the reins.

"Oh, okay," he had replied easily.

And the Beast, grumbling a little, had drained away.

Hank had reached into his shirt pocket and put on his glasses.

Now they were here.

Driving down the road away from everything and everybody he had become accustomed to for the last ten years.

He couldn't say he was enjoying himself.

Not exactly.

Because he was too numb for any type of emotion.

But he was strangely relaxed.

Calm.

At ease.

The woman beside him, however, was growing ever more tense and defensive by the second.

Though he hadn't said or done anything at all but sit there.

"And don't try to stop me," she insisted, tossing him a glare.

He shook his head.

"Hank?"

He resolutely kept his eyes trained on the road.

"Yeah?"

But he could still see her in his peripheral. She seemed unnerved by his silence, his lack of response to her declarations.

_I kind of enjoy watching _her_ be the one to squirm for once._

Finally she spoke, her questioning voice carrying a slight taunt that reminded him of who she used to be.

"Aren't you going to try to stop me? Isn't that what you do?"

He made a neutral face and shrugged.

"Would it help?"

She set her jaw firmly, hands tightening a little on the steering wheel.

"No."

He nodded his consensus.

"Then no."

She stayed silent next to him. He watched the road.

"But you still don't _want_ me to."

She was definitely edging now, attempting to feel him out . . .

_Ah, go ahead and feel me then. Since I've apparently lost my mind anyway . . ._

And he was definitely enjoying her discomfort. If he could have felt anything anyway. As it was, his only sensation was a dimly shell-shocked disorientation.

_I'm nearly thirty and I've suddenly run away from home with a beautiful, dangerous woman. Charles is going to be so mad at me._

He almost grinned but it would have cost too much effort.

So he didn't.

But he did find words to express himself.

It seemed to be getting easier the more he did it.

Or maybe he just wasn't concerned as much anymore about what he said.

"What I want or don't want doesn't matter. Time is immutable and there's nothing I can do to change whatever is going to happen."

She seemed taken aback by his indifferent response.

"But you do _want_ to me to spare him. I can tell."

She slowed the car just as he suspected she would, guiding it over toward the shoulder of the road.

Stopped.

Switched off the ignition and turned to him in the passenger seat.

Took a deep breath and spoke once more.

"Hank, I _have_ to kill Trask. Don't you _see_? I can't let him continue to murder our mutant brothers and sisters. He does _terrible_ things to them. I've _seen_ it! He's a monster! And he'll never stop until we're all dead or under his control!"

She had witnessed something terrible, that much was obvious. Just what Hank wasn't sure. But it had set her on this destructive course as surely as a piece of paper pulled toward slicing teeth of a shredder.

So he spoke honestly again.

It seemed to be working so far.

"Mystique, I don't _care_ about Trask. He's dangerous to everybody and a monster, you're right. I _do_ care about what your murder of him will do to _you_. And the future of everyone, both mutant and human."

She looked at him speculatively.

"So then why aren't you trying to stop me?"

He shook his head.

"If it's going to happen, it will happen either way. They may have your blood already. I saw a newscast of somebody collecting blood from the pavement in Paris."

She frowned.

'Yes, I saw that too."

Hank continued.

"I'm not here to tell you what to do. I'm just relieved to be here. And not there."

Her eyes lasered into him, as if trying to figure him out.

He didn't shy away.

Finally she spoke one word.

"Okay."

Restarting the car, she pulled back onto the road and they resumed their trip.

And their silence.

* * *

They drove southwest for two hours at a more or less steady pace.

He considered asking where they were going.

But he didn't.

Because he already knew.

Trask.

D.C.

The beginning of the end of the world.

_How am I going to stop it? And her? Should I even try?_

That was stupid. Of course he should. He hadn't completely changed just because he'd impetuously fled the Manor with a blue, scaly mutant hell-bent on murder.

_But how?_

Suddenly he was stricken by an overwhelming certainty that the powerful mutant beside him could hear his thoughts more loudly than if he were shouting through a megaphone.

He glanced over at her but she seemed to be focusing on carefully following all the rules and regulations of driver's safety.

_Wouldn't do to get pulled over and make any sort of scene that might impede getting to D.C. in enough time for the big day, would it?_

The thought made him feel slightly ill.

Raven, Mystique, murder.

"Have you ever killed anyone before?" he asked suddenly.

She briefly cast a rueful look at him before redirecting her concentration to the traffic in the front of them.

He waited. He was getting very good at it.

"Yes," she answered finally. "But only in self-defense. And not that many."

He felt a sweeping sense of relief mixed with an undercurrent of sadness.

_If she does kill him in cold blood, then it _will_ change her forever. How do you come back from purposefully executing someone?_

According to Logan, she couldn't.

Suddenly, Raven slowed the car.

_What'd I do now?_

And pulled into the parking lot of a diner.

"I'm hungry."

She turned off the car, glancing at him.

"You want something?"

_Yes. Peace with a side order of anonymity, please._

He nodded.

"Sure."

And got out.

* * *

The diner was small and worn.

A twangy country song greeted them along with the bell above the door that Raven opened.

It was afternoon and only a few customers sat quietly at their tables.

"Hey, hon, sit anywhere you like," a hefty waitress called out.

Hank followed Raven to a booth where she could see the entrance and the car.

When the friendly, gum-smacking waitress arrived, they both ordered cheeseburgers, cokes, and fries.

It seemed like a long wait for their food.

Small talk wouldn't cut it.

_So, seen any good movies lately?_

In between trying to save the mutants of the world?

_What kind of hobbies, besides killing, do you enjoy lately?_

Nope, try again.

'Satin sheets to lie on, satin pillows to cry on . . ."

_Is this song the reason you hate humans so much? Because that I can commiserate with._

He just decided to wait until their food arrived.

When it did, they ate in silence for a while.

Then Raven spoke.

"What happened to him? Charles. It . . . wasn't all me?"

She seemed to be hoping Hank would absolve of her role in her mutant brother's downward spiral.

_I could make her pay for abandoning him. Abandoning us. I could make her suffer. Make her hurt. Right now. I could do it. And she would believe me. Because I'm Hank. And Hank doesn't play around with people's emotions._

He decided he would grant her mercy. And the truth.

"No. Not all you. He started off okay. Missed you. Missed Erik. But he had a purpose then. Starting his mutant school. I thought he, _we_, were all going to be okay. But when Vietnam started taking so many innocents and the kids' parents started getting scared, it just all fell apart."

He hesitated, contemplating his half-eaten cheeseburger.

"He didn't have anything to distract him. He started obsessing over everything he couldn't fix, couldn't change. Cerebro and his telepathy didn't help because there were so many voices crying out. And he got . . . weak. Scared. So he started trying to shut them out instead of deal with them."

Hank stopped talking, feeling a little guilty for airing Charles' personal struggles.

"And he just . . . fell apart."

Raven listened, the light shining on her pale, pinched face, lovely in her human form.

She bit her lip.

"I never meant to hurt him. I knew I did. But I couldn't stay."

He nodded, fiddling with a French fry.

"I know."

_Trust me._

"I didn't help," he admitted quietly. "I thought I could when I developed his serum. But it made things worse. It only gave him a crutch. I wished I'd never done it."

She was eyeing him closely, like he was an animal trapped in a cage.

"And your own serum?"

He answered honestly as best as he could.

"Well, it helps me eat in diners with shapeshifting mutants."

Raven huffed and thoughtfully chewed a few fries before speaking again.

"I'm not really surprised though. He always found a way to get whatever he wanted. In a way he was just throwing a fit like a spoiled brat whose favorite toy has been taken away."

_Ten year long hissy fit and I was the nanny? Slightly more complicated than that, I think._

Thankfully, Raven changed the subject.

"What about you? Find somebody to put appreciate your sciency side?"

She smiled just a little and he returned it.

_She's trying to be social, normal, even-keeled._

_That's nice._

He couldn't resist a sarcastic expression from catching hold of his face.

"You mean between being afraid to be a beast and taking care of Charles the serum head?"

She chuckled a little.

"Okay, never mind."

They ate in silence for a while.

Finally, Raven scooted out of the booth.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

He nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

When she walked out the diner door heading for the car, he was sitting in the passenger seat.

She calmly sat down behind the wheel, refusing to look at him.

Turned on the car, backed up, and drove away down the road.

"How did you know?" she asked finally.

He looked at her and deadpanned.

"It doesn't take a genius to predict your actions, Mystique. Whatever will hurt me most, that's the most probable option."

There were no other cars on the road. She rippled slowly into her blue form from head to toe. And back just the same.

Like an animal reflexing its muscles and bearing its teeth.

Now it was his turn to ask an obvious question.

"Why?"

She didn't answer for a long while and he didn't press her to. He could wait.

Then she sighed audibly.

"You're a distraction for me. Being aware of you, taking care of you, wondering if Charles is controlling you or trying to get you to stop me. I don't need that distraction. I don't need to _care_."

He wait to respond until they stopped at a traffic light.

"Do you want me to get out?"

She didn't answer, didn't move.

The light turned green.

The car stayed still.

Behind them, an impatient driver honked his horn.

Raven flipped them off without looking. Hank refrained from lowering her proffered hand.

_She'd punch me in the face too. Don't need that._

"No," she relented. "You can stay."

And drove through the intersection just before the light turned red.

* * *

**Yep, our Hank is a little loopy and left fielding out here. But have you ever felt the exhiliaration of cutting bait and running? I have.**

**Okay, yes, Hank &amp; Raven have 'advanced' healing factors. Just not as near instantaneous as Logan.**

**And the song is 'Satin Sheets' popularized by Tammy Wynette . That's the boppy version. The original version is sung by Jeanette Pruett. Which makes me suicidal. No offense.**

**Anyway, thanks to brigid1318 (who has put up with me all day), DaniNatureGirl313 (thanks for the Charles plot bunny), chraezanty1317 (I'll address Erik/Raven soon) for reading and reviewing. Please feel free to talk to me, yeah? And all the rest of you. :D**


	6. Invasion of Privacy

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 6: Invasion of Privacy

* * *

When they arrived on the outskirts of D.C. two hours later, it was dark.

"We need to rest," Raven relayed to Hank.

He thought about it.

_Well, we _could_ drop in on Peter Maximoff. But I think his mom might freak out. We kind of . . . absconded with him last time we were in town._

Raven pulled into a seedy-looking motel parking lot.

Hank tried not to sound pretentious.

"Here?"

She looked at him.

"Yes. Low profile."

_But what if the roaches turn us in to Trask?_

He decided to keep his mouth shut.

And followed Raven into the clerk's office.

"Hello," Raven put on her best, sweetest smile.

The clerk looked up. She was an older lady with permed hair and overlarge glasses. She was reading a tawdry, bodice-ripping novel.

"Hello, dear," she replied, returning Raven's smile and discreetly slipping the book under the newspaper on the counter as they approached.

_Oooh, look, _she's_ hiding. Get her, Mystique!_

Hank thought his sardonic side might be starting to overwhelm his good sense. Of course, it _had_ been a long, eventful day.

"We'd like a room, please," requested the charming blonde Hank suddenly found himself in the presence of.

The matronly woman looked from one to the other.

"Just the one?"

Raven was quicker than Hank.

"Yes."

The grandmother seemed to weigh them carefully.

"What are you in town for?"

Raven snuggled up against Hank, who somehow managed to keep his jaw from dropping off his face.

"Honeymoon."

* * *

Raven opened the door to their honeymoon boudoir.

Hank looked around at the sparse room. It appeared very tidy and clean despite the threadbare and inexpensive furnishings. Much more habitable than he'd suspected from the outside of the building.

_Still . . ._

"One room?"

She glanced over at him.

"Yeah. You can sleep in the car if you prefer."

He wished desperately he had more cash than was in his wallet.

"Uh . . ."

She sighed.

"Look, I'm not rolling in the dough like your former mansion mate. Besides, it has _two_ beds," she gestured.

_Yeah, but . . ._

_What if I snore? What if I have flatulence? What if I sleepwalk into your bed? I don't think it's a good idea._

She was still eyeing him expectantly.

"Okay," he relented.

Then turned around and looked around at the surrounding establishments. He found one to suit his needs.

"Uh, I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she questioned suspiciously.

He pointed.

Her eyebrows raised in bafflement.

"You're going _shopping_?"

He shrugged, trying to maintain his dignity.

"I didn't bring anything but what was on me. I just sort of walked out."

The mischievous light he remembered was trying to glint in her eyes.

"So you need some Pond's face cream?"

He sighed, caught somewhere between amused and beginning to die of embarrassment.

"No, I need . . . sleeping clothes."

She stared at him.

"Really?"

He stared back.

"Yes. I can't sleep in these clothes and I'm not going to walk around naked. It wouldn't look as good on me as it does on you."

The last part slipped out before Hank even knew it was there and his shocked and horrified expression caused her to raise an eyebrow in stifled amusement.

"Uh . . . I mean . . ." he started stammer.

Raven rolled her sky blue eyes.

"Oh my _god_, Hank! Just go before you hurt yourself."

But she looked like she fighting not to smile or laugh.

And then she handed him the key, went into the motel room, and closed the door.

* * *

When Hank returned fifteen minutes later, Mystique was blue and scaly again. Sitting at the small table with a paper cup in her hand.

She seemed to be staring into its depths as if it held magical powers.

"Hey."

She didn't bother to answer.

Hank went into the small bathroom and shut the door.

He changed clothes, brushed his teeth, and washed his face.

Leaving the bathroom, he hung up his only set of clothes neatly on a hook.

And turned to her.

She looked forlorn.

"Mystique?"

She didn't look up.

_Moody again? So no pillow fight I suppose. Oh well. Bet the pillows are like rocks anyway._

He left her alone and went out to the car. Retrieved the medical supplies he'd gathered for her at Xavier Manor.

And gazed up at the cloudy night sky.

_I wish I could see stars. Stars would give me hope._

There were no stars. No moon. No heavenly lights of any kind.

Only man made. Man who destroyed the world and each other out of ignorance and stupidity and pride and hate.

Hank gripped the medical bag tightly and went inside.

She was exactly where he had left her. He approached slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.

"I need to check your bandage."

She didn't move.

"Mystique?"

She huffed at him.

"You just did five hours ago, Hank."

He knelt before her, well aware of his submissive position.

"Yeah, I need to see if the puffiness around the entry wound has gone down."

She sighed, shifted a little, and stuck out her leg for his inspection.

It was more difficult to concentrate this time without denim covering her form. He swallowed hard and set his jaw, keeping his eyes firmly on her calf, refusing to ask her to cover up.

The discoloration did seem a little better and definitely no worse so he reapplied some healing agent and affixed the bandage again.

Then he moved away from her and sat on the bed closest to the door. He'd instinctively chosen that one, thinking to give her extra seconds to defend herself in the event of a break in.

"So what are we going to do?"

She stood slowly, seeming lost in thought. He thought he saw something pass through her eyes, like a trick of the light.

"I . . . I don't know. I never _meant_ to turn out this way. I just wanted to keep our mutant brothers and sisters safe. I never meant to _hurt_ anybody."

_She's . . . changing her mind? What was in that cup?_

Hank wanted to feel hopeful that the current of the river was changing.

But he couldn't quite yet.

Mystique took a trembly step, then halted. Her face grimaced and then cleared.

As if she were struggling somehow.

_With the weight of her decision? Or something else? Careful, McCoy, she may be trying to test you, trick you._

"I think maybe we should go back to the Manor," Mystique continued, as if the idea had just occurred to her. "Talk to Charles and Logan. Figure out a new plan to stop Trask. You could even fly us back out here tomorrow if we need to cut and run, yes?"

Hank nodded slowly and rose.

Raven stood still, her blue, scaly chest heaving.

_Grr . . . _

_I know. Something's not right. But I can't tell . . ._

Hank observed her carefully. Her movements, her voice, her words. It all seemed awkward and unnatural. A complete deviation from everything she'd portrayed thus far.

"Mystique, are you sure you want to go back _now_? It's late. We could sleep here and go back in the morning. We have time."

She didn't respond for a moment. Then her entire body twitched. And she spoke.

"Don't you _want_ me to have _peace_, Hank? You don't _want_ me to become a _murderer_, do you? _Please_, help me go home and start _over_."

Hank's heart tore a little at the pleading in her voice.

But his brain was working on an entirely different plane.

_Grr . . ._

_Yeah, it's just not adding up . . ._

'_Cut and run, yes?'_

_Growl . . ._

_That's not the way Raven talks._

_Growl . . ._

_That's how-_

"Charles!" he swore, his usually affable voice intense and dangerous.

The figure of Charles Xavier, scraggly beard, unwashed hair, wrinkled hippie clothes and all, overtook the space where Mystique had been only a moment before.

"Hello, Hank."

Hank growled, feeling the Beast bristle up inside him.

"What do you think you are you _doing_, Charles?!"

Charles' bloodshot eyes attempted to appeal to Hank's sense of compassion.

"I'm trying to get you to come _home_. _Both_ of you."

Hank was beyond fury.

"How can you _do_ this to _Raven_?! _Invading_ her like this?! You're _raping_ her!"

The image of Charles flinched at Hank's purposefully harsh word.

"I'm not trying to _hurt_ her, Hank."

"Then get _out_ of her, Charles!"

Charles's face hardened as if he were trying to control his emotions.

"Hank, I'm trying to _talk_ to you! _Please_, come home! We need you here! _She_ needs to be _here_! We have that chance _right_ _now_! Please, bring her _back_!"

Hank's fists clenched, his claws digging into his palms.

_**"Get out of her, Charles!"**_

Charles' calm expression broke.

"Fine!" he shouted.

And disappeared.

Raven wilted visibly.

Hank was about to rush her side whether she wanted him to or not, when he was struck with a blinding pain behind his eyes, radiating throughout his skull. Making his abruptly sharpening teeth grind in his mouth. He bit his tongue badly.

And crumpled to the thinly carpeted floor of the motel room, clenching his blue, furry head in his clawed hands.

_Stop, Charles!_

_Bring her home, Hank!_

_No!_

_I could take it all away, Hank. Everything you are. Bring her home!_

_NO! You'll have to kill me, Charles!_

_Don't test my desperation, Hank!_

The pain intensified until Hank let out a strangled scream.

He felt, rather than saw, the movement.

Attempted to glance up through his excruciating agony.

Her. Raven. Mystique. Standing over him. Face grim.

She knelt, gripped his chin roughly in one hand, jerking his head up. And spoke to him. Or more accurately, not to him, but to her former mutant brother residing within him.

"I will _never_ forgive you for this, Charles!" she spat venomously.

Then she hit Hank hard in the side of the head.

Though he understood her intention, he still retaliated.

Roaring furiously at her, at Charles, at the whole world.

And lashed out, shoving her away as hard as he could.

She flew backward, hitting the wall, and collapsing in a pained explosion of breath_._

Rising stubbornly to her feet, approaching him again.

He growled deep in his chest, orange eyes ablaze, but held himself steady.

_Cognitive recalibration. This is going to hurt._

She roundhouse kicked him in the temple.

And his entire world went black.

* * *

**Alrighty, what you do think of _that_?**

**Catch the Avengers Easter egg when Black Widow takes out Hawkeye to kick out the mind control? Well, I tried.**

**And remember when Raven/Mystique is yelling at Charles to get out of her head during the final fight? Well, now she's got more reason to be so angry.**

**Thanks to brigid1318 who beta-ed this chapter over and over and . . . love you, sweetie!**

**Anyway, thanks to brigid1318, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and DaniNatureGirl313 for taking the time to read and review.**

**Thanks as well to the silent readers out there. I appreciate you guys as well. :)**


	7. Look Beyond the Blue

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 7: Look Beyond the Blue

* * *

_Uhhggghhh . . ._

His head hurt.

And it was cold.

And wet.

Hank tried to open his eyes.

Bad idea.

_Uhhggghhh . . ._

He became aware of that his body was flat out a hard surface, arms splayed out from his sides.

One clawed hand was resting lightly against something slightly rough and firm, yet warm and alive.

Hank McCoy pulled his eyelids open with the all of the willpower he had.

The room was dim, lit only by a bedside table lamp.

It was still too bright.

Raven, Mystique, the woman in blue, hovered above him.

Her yellow eyes were dry but worry stood out in them nonetheless.

_What's my hand touching? Thigh. Oh. Don't squeeze._

Her searching gaze found his orange eyes and she smiled fleetingly.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Sorry I hit you. I had to."

Her voice was tinged with regret but he knew she'd do it again without hesitation if forced to. And he was glad.

"I know. Thanks."

_For the blunt force trauma. _

But if she had not intervened, where would he be? What lengths would Charles Xavier truly have gone to get what he wanted?

_Omph, there's that thigh again._

"Hank?"

Her voice was gentle and kind. He wasn't used to it sounding that way.

It sounded like she . . . _cared_.

"Huh?"

"Just move your hand away."

His brains felt scrambled and disjointed. Still he managed to respond.

"Oh, okay."

He did. A little. It wasn't easy because the hand in question seemed unnaturally heavy and thick.

In the meantime, Raven removed her hand from the side of his head. In it was a damp soft cloth.

_Well, that explains the wet cold. But not the thigh._

Hank tried to sit up and was immediately overwhelmed with a sense of dizziness and nausea.

He heaved suddenly, retching up a thin, watery bile. His blue skinned nursemaid deftly caught it in the cloth, wiping it away from his mouth without a trace of disgust.

He hung his head listlessly, forcing himself to remain upright.

_Well, that was sexy,_ he thought sarcastically._ At least I didn't lose bladder control during the attack. I just bought these gray sweatpants._

Raven cupped his chin in one hand and carefully tilted his face up. Peered into his slightly unfocused eyes.

"You may have a concussion."

He couldn't respond.

"Come on," she said, rising. "Let's get you to bed."

_Yes, Mother. I mean, Ma'am. I mean, Mystique._

Raven patiently supported him from the floor to the bed. Hank practically puddled onto the mattress. Raven pulled the cover over him and smoothed his blue hair back from his forehead with a tender hand.

She looked thoughtful.

Hank tried to smile at her.

She didn't return the gesture.

"Charles has never done anything like that before. That was . . . bad. I'm sorry he hurt you," she murmured quietly.

Hank started to raise his leaden hand to her scaled face then thought better of it. Instead he simply spoke.

"Did he hurt you?"

His red haired mutant caretaker shook her head a little.

"No. I'm only tired from fighting against the control."

Hank was quiet for a minute.

"But I hurt you. I threw you into the wall. I'm sorry."

She shrugged.

"I'm fine. Go to sleep. You'll be better in the morning."

She rose and he caught her hand. She looked down. He looked up.

"Thank you," he murmured.

And let go of her hand.

Raven, Mystique turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He heard her lay down in the creaky bed and the sound of rustling sheets as she covered up.

All was silent and quiet. City sounds and lights filtered in through the walls and the curtained window.

He thought he would sleep then.

But he didn't.

His advanced hearing picked up her quiet, even breathing. She was not asleep yet.

"Did you love him? Erik?"

He could have knitted a sweater in the time she took to respond.

"Did or do?"

He considered it.

"Either. Both."

And waited.

"He accepted me for who and what I was. He was different than any other man I'd ever met. I felt like I could be alive and free and powerful."

She stopped talking for a while. And Hank waited, listening to her breathe.

"He didn't love me, not deeply. Not more than his mission. But he cared for me. Taught me. Pushed me."

_Off a satellite? 'Cause I don't see how that would help you._

"I always knew where I stood. And where it could end."

She paused. Hank asked a question he knew the answer to.

"Where?"

She answered matter of factly.

"When I went against his mission."

She was silent for a while.

"When he was captured, I was lost. I tried to get him back but I couldn't."

_She's been alone_, Hank mused. _I know how that feels. _

"But after a long time, I had a new mission."

Hank remained quiet. She seemed to take his silence as disapproval.

"Hank, I _have_ to kill Trask. "

He considered all the possible responses he could provide.

_No, you don't._

_Sure, I guess everybody needs a hobby. _

_Have you considered taking up needlepoint?_

_You know, I've heard science is developing some relatively effective antipsychotics. _

And decided to stick with the simplest one.

"Why?"

She stayed quiet so long he nearly dozed off.

"To save us all. And my son."

And Hank was wide awake all over again. So awake he nearly levitated off the bed and onto the ceiling.

_Not so alone then. Okay. Stay cool, McCoy._

He cleared his throat carefully, willing his voice not to crack with emotion.

"Erik's?"

The tension seemed unbearable.

"No. Azazel."

Hank was floored again. And apparently a little too quiet.

She spoke once more, her voice floating out of the darkness, sounding a little defensive.

"I can feel you judging me from over here, Hank. Stop it."

He tried to shake his head and got a pulse of renewed throbbing agony for his efforts.

"No, just . . . confused."

_Big, red, teleporting monster, right? Are you serious?_

"I was too at first," she replied. "Then I wasn't. And then he was dead. Taken and tortured and experimented on by Trask. I know. I saw the pictures."

_So much. She's suffered and lost so much. No wonder she's so angry, so determined._

When she next spoke, her voice was hard and cold.

"I just have to kill Trask. Then the killings and expermentations will stop. Our mutant brothers and sisters will be safe. We all can move forward."

_No, it won't be that easy, Mystique. It will never end. It will only get worse._

But he kept quiet. Mostly because it hurt too much to talk.

After a while, she spoke one last time.

"Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't die tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mystique."

* * *

"Hank."

_Yes, my Twinkie?_

"Hank."

_Yes, I'm listening. Your voice floats into my soul on wispy zephyrs of radiance and light._

"Hank!"

_Wthf? Where _am_ I?_

Hank opened his eyes. Sunlight. Small, sparse room.

Raven.

Blue Mystique.

_Oh._

She seemed to refuse to show relief that he was conscious.

"Are you better?"

He sat up carefully. His head was sore from her forced double assault the previous night. But the nausea was gone and he felt slightly dizzy only when he considered all the events of the previous day.

He was also _starving_.

"Yes," he replied.

She nodded solemnly.

"Good. Get up. We've got work to do."

This gave him pause.

_But the White House isn't 'til tomorrow. And it's early._

"What?" he questioned curiously.

She glared at his lack of hustle.

"Just get up. Come on, I'll get you a coffee and a cream-filled donut."

_Hey, that's close to a Twinkie._

Hank got up.

* * *

After placating their ravenous hungers with the hot coffee and cream-filleds from a nearby shop, Raven drove both she and Hank to the most unlikeliest of places.

A grocery store.

Dumbfounded, Hank McCoy followed as his blonde haired companion grabbed a shopping cart. And methodically powered down the aisles, grabbing mostly canned goods and other long-lasting staples. Most of the items she bought could be eaten with minimal preparation.

Watching her load baby food and diapers into the cart, Hank wondered how old her son was.

_Best not to ask. She might run me down._

Then he didn't have time to ask her anything because she pushed a second cart into his hands and bade him follow her.

After filling up both carts with items from an apparent checklist in her head, she headed to the checkout.

She paid the clerk in cash and they rolled their many purchases out to the car. She quickly divided all the items into multiple smaller bags. Then took off down the road, a slightly baffled Hank at her side.

She'd been quiet for so long Hank was beginning to suspect he might have gone deaf.

So he spoke.

Digging for information, maybe a whiff of a smile.

"I thought you said you didn't have money to spend."

She cast him a withering look.

"Not on a fancy hotel room or two. But food to feed hungry mutants? Yes."

And six foot two inch Hank McCoy felt very small.

And so Raven, the dangerous mutant Mystique, and her companion Hank McCoy, the blue furry beast, went visiting.

She drove to different abodes and sheltering areas around the D.C. area, delivering needed supplies to destitute mutants and their families.

She sat with them and Hank watched her comfort and sympathize with the lost, forgotten souls of the world. He watched her make them smile, make them laugh, make them hope. Some of them could hide their abilities and mutations, some couldn't.

Some openly wept and seemed to plead for understanding and release. Some were nothing but seething volcanos of hate and loathing for their situations. Some were peaceful and accepting of their unique lot in life.

She showed compassion for them all, encouraging them, uplifting them, offering them solutions when she could.

Hank had never been so awed in his entire life as he was on that day.

She did not speak to any one of them of her coming mission. Whether to spare them that knowledge and worry or to protect herself, he didn't know.

She revealed her true physical form whenever she safely could.

And none of them, no matter what their physical or mental condition, hurt her.

Or even attempted.

Instead, they all seemed to look upon her with a sense of appreciation. Wonder. Devotion.

As did Hank.

When they stopped for hot dogs at a local stand along one of their routes, Hank managed to find some fumbling, inept words to express his newfound sense of amazement.

"You helped so many people, Mystique. You were kind to them. You cared about them."

She looked upon him and her eyes flashed from blue to yellow to blue as his words coursed through her brain.

And then she said the most hopeful thing Hank had ever heard her say in all the time he'd known her.

"It's not always about fighting and killing and death, Hank. Sometimes it's about living."

* * *

**I hope this chapter touched your soul a little. If not, we might need to talk.**

**Okay, Hank's not being a perv here at the beginning. He's just a _guy_. He's also disoriented from the blow to the head. Cut him some slack, sweeties.**

**Also, since he fought and suffered for her, I thought it would be important for Raven/Mystique to be able to trust him enough at this point to allow him to understand and know her a little better. Plus, he's sort of cutting through her barriers and affecting her just by his presence.**

**As to the second part, it may seem a little out of character for what we know about the character of Mystique. **

**But if you knew it was very possible you might die tomorrow, how would you spend today?**

**Thank you brigid1318 (&amp; her beautiful soul), MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul (Hank's loyal self-assigned bodyguard), and angeleye02 (bless your reading eyes, sweetie), and DaniNaturegirl313 (loving our 'intellectual' discussions by the way) for reviewing. **

**Thanks as well to Pumpkin-love33 (seriously, I am _SO_ curious) for adding your support to this tale as well.**


	8. The Crumbling Cliff and What Came After

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 8: The Crumbling Cliff and What Came After

* * *

At the end of the day, when all of their groceries and sundries had been distributed, Raven reverted to her usual stoicism and silently drove to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Stopped the car and stared at the massive white building set far back behind the tall, imposing black fence.

Hank saw her face blank as if she were strategizing possible courses of action for the next day.

"Mystique . . ." he began.

"Shut up, Hank." she responded mechanically, indifferently. "I'm thinking."

"But . . ."

"I'm warning you, Hank."

Hank shut up.

He wasn't scared of angering her. Not exactly. He was trying to formulate a feasible argument to derail her self-assigned mission of Trask assassination.

For the first time since hazily walking out of Xavier Manor with her by his side, Hank felt a rapidly rising sense of urgency.

_I've _got_ to make her see. Time is running out to make her see._

* * *

"Raven, you don't have to do this. We can find another way," he pleaded.

They were facing off in the motel room. It was dark outside again.

And all the bright beauty of a day spent selflessly reaching out to others less fortunate was gone.

And replaced by talk of impending murder and irreversible consequences.

"How? _How_ is there another way? He's a scientist for the _government_. They'll cover for him! They'll help him! They've already done it before, Hank!"

She was becoming agitated, he could see. He was testing her resolve, pushing her buttons. And she didn't like that. Not when she unintentionally had come to rely on his steadfastness during these past two days.

_Only two days? Seems highly improbable that so much could happen in such a short amount of time._

"But if we got to the right people . . ." he suggested.

She threw her arms out wide in frustration.

"There _are_ no 'right people', Hank! I know, I've tried! If there were, that would have been the first stop!"

Her despair was apparent.

Yes, she had tried, he could see that. Begged, pleaded, coaxed any number of people in a valiant effort to get help for her and her fellow mutants.

Her, the lone fighter or so she thought. While he, Hank, had hidden away in a secluded mansion and sulked.

_If we survive this, I'm going to become 'the right person'. I'm going to fight for mutant rights. In the government. And then there _will_ be a right person._

He was stricken with a sudden powerful urge to surge forward and gather her up in his arms. Human. Beast. Whichever she would respond most positively to.

Hold her close. Comfort her. Let her know she was not alone. Vow to help her find a peaceful resolution to her desperate predicament.

But he couldn't. She would not welcome his comfort. Would see it as a ruse to control her, weaken her, derail her from her mission.

And he had to finally say what needed to be said.

"There are bigger issues here than you or any one of us, Mystique. The destruction of the entire world and everyone and everything in it."

He gritted his teeth, knowing what he said next would drive a wedge between them, probably bigger than either of them could span.

"Because in reality, your personal vendetta doesn't mean anything in the larger scheme of things."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew they were nearing the edge of a crumbling precipice.

"What you did today. The giving of your time, your care, your compassion. That had a _positive_ effect. You helped _so_ _many_ people, Mystique. You might have even inspired them to reach out to others."

He stopped, thunderstruck. Then managed to gather up his words and speak again.

"_That_ could be your mission. _That_ could be your purpose. You could develop a network, a community of mutants all supporting and helping each other. An underground society. A _real_ Brotherhood of Mutants."

She stood shock still. Nothing moved. She barely breathed. Hank didn't know whether it was a good sign or a bad.

_Either I'm finally reaching her or she's about to kill me herself._

He held his ground. Hoping, praying for a break in their impasse.

"We can protect your son, Mystique. We can keep him _safe_."

He saw her blink back tears. Saw her face begin to crumple, then watched despondently as it hardened, became like granite.

She spoke then, quietly and with absolute certainty.

"No one can keep him safe. None of us will be safe as long as Trask and his kind are out there. That's the whole point."

And so the impasse remained.

Then she spoke her final warning, her final ultimatum. In the same quiet, calm voice.

"Look if you're not willing to be useful or at least stand aside, Hank, then there's the door. You can leave anytime you want. I'll even give you the car keys."

They stared at each other for the longest of times.

Then Hank sat down on his motel bed and removed his shoes.

Looked up at her, his message clear and decisive.

_I'm not going anywhere._

She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

* * *

Hank McCoy opened his eyes in the dark.

He'd been asleep.

And now he wasn't.

He and Raven had inhabited the same general space during the few hours following their confrontation. Without speaking. Without contact of any sort.

It had not been a companionable silence.

_If I didn't know better, I'd think we were on two separate timelines. Inhabiting the same space on two different dimensions. It certainly feels that way._

Eventually, Raven had turned out her light and lain down in her bed with her blue back to him.

Hank had followed suit and broken darkness had joined the silence in a suffocating, cloying blanket of tension and interminable waiting.

It was Raven who had found dreams first.

And muttered and moaned miserably in her sleep.

Hank had heard her beseeching cries and wondered where she was. What was happening. Who was there.

He had gotten up and warily approached her side. Reached out a hesitant hand, knowing she might rise up at any time and dropkick him in the head.

_I'd really prefer not. I don't think I can take that again._

But just as his hand was about to touch her shoulder, she had quieted.

He'd paused.

She'd remained peaceful.

After a few minutes he had retreated.

To the bathroom. Closed the door. Turned on the light. Gazed into the mirror.

_I can't stop it. I can't save her. I can't save any of us. I don't know what to do._

No answers had miraculously came to him as he stared at his own tousled, bloodshot reflection.

He had eventually gone back to bed.

And stared at the spackled ceiling until his eyelids slipped closed.

And dreamed of death and fire and a desolate world.

Where he stood alone and desolately gazed down upon the charred bones of his long gone friends.

* * *

And now something had awoken him.

At first he didn't know what had pulled him out of sleep.

And then became clear.

It was her.

Beside him.

In his bed.

Wrapping an arm and leg around him.

Her head on his shoulder.

Raven, Mystique was here with him in the dark.

He quietly spoke the most intelligent words he'd ever uttered in his life.

"Uh, hey."

She didn't respond.

"Are you okay?"

Her warm body pressed against his human one, as if seeking the reassurance from his nearness. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her to comfort her.

Her bare flesh was matched his.

"No," she murmured, voice small, head buried in his neck.

Hands. Her hands were under his shirt, slowly caressing and moving all over his chest and his lower torso. Touching him in ways he'd only dreamt of.

It was getting a little difficult to think logically.

"Uh, Mystique, what are you doing?"

Her lips worked their way tantalizingly up his neck to graze his ear. Her light breath sent shivers through every nerve and synapse.

"Hank?" she murmured. "Call me 'Raven'."

His entire body thrummed and he understood everything.

What she felt, why she felt it.

Some part of her, deep down, didn't want to be the harsh, cold thing she had become. Some part of her yearned to be what she could have been, should have been, given different circumstances, different decisions.

Some part of her wanted to believe in hope again, in the possibility of life and light.

If only for a little while.

"Raven," he whispered back to her.

And so when her lips sought his, he met them without hesitation.

* * *

**Anybody else sitting in a warm room right now? No? Okay, guess it's just me. **

**Well anyway, just in case you were wondering, no Charles (ick, a world of no) anywhere in this chapter. This is all straight up Hank and Raven. **

**A special thanks to brigid1318 for beta-ing the argument and providing some much needed insight.**

**Thanks to brigid1318, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, DaniNatureGirl313 and a very highly enthusiastic guest reviewer for choosing to read and review.**

**Only one more chapter to go I believe.**


	9. Unsteady Reunions

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 9: Unsteady Reunions

* * *

Hank woke up alone and naked, tangled in the now musky sheets of his motel bed.

And wondered if it had all been a dream.

He disentangled himself from the bedding and stood up. Rolled his shoulders once or twice, wincing at his slightly sore muscles and the stings of the thin, fresh scratches on his back.

The shower shut off.

Raven appeared, blond and dripping wet from the shower.

She was toweling her hair dry. The morning sun filtered in through the drawn shades and caressed her lithe figure in rays of light.

She was beautiful.

_Why is she staying in her human form? For me?_

He remembered last night. Human, mutant. They had embraced each other in both forms and it had been _amazing_.

So amazing, he feared it would never happen again. Which was why he had let go and done all the things he had. In case it never happened again.

She walked toward him now, damp towel wrapped lightly around her svelte frame.

_This is too good to continue. She won't just _abandon_ her mission for _me_. I'm her Raven. She's my Erik. She won't stop for me. She's learned too well._

She reached out for him and took his head gently between her hands, moving her sky blue eyes slowly over his face.

_I feel like she's drinking me in. Why does that make me feel unsettled?_

He couldn't decipher his whispering emotions just yet and so he simply let her look.

And looked back.

Finally, she smiled and reached further into his embrace to kiss him.

It was warm and soft and accepting.

Then she broke the contact and moved back just a little.

"Show me," she requested quietly, rippling into her natural blue form.

He did.

Morphing into the Beast and drawing her to him for another embrace.

Then he let her go.

And she smiled softly, laying a light hand to his face.

"Go take a shower," she murmured.

And he went.

* * *

His hot, cleansing shower lasted only five minutes.

And when he stepped out, toweling himself dry, it was quiet.

The quiet that reigns you are all alone and no one is showing up to save you.

On the cheap dresser, there lay a piece of hotel stationary.

And he just knew.

He moved on unfeeling legs and picked the note up with numb fingers.

_Hank, _

_I still have to do this._

_Thank you for caring and being my friend._

_Raven._

She had known all along. When she was gazing at him minutes before. And kissing him.

She had known.

She was going off alone to kill Trask. Kill Trask and possibly die.

And she had said her final goodbyes.

Hank dropped the note and his towel.

And immediately reached for the clothes hung neatly on the hook, his unimportant aches and pains completely forgotten.

* * *

_Charles!_

Hank had arrived at the White House to a throng of people milling about everywhere.

He had no desire whatsoever to engage Charles Xavier but he had no choice.

It was his only chance at finding shape shifting Mystique. And saving Raven from destroying the world. And herself.

_Charles!_

He imagined his mutant signature spreading throughout the area like a scent or a mist. He knew that wasn't the way it really worked, but it was his only option.

_I should really invent a telephone that people can carry with them wherever they go. It would be so much more convenient. Like a portable transistor radio._

Hank walked here and there mentally calling out and visually searching for a wheelchair-bound serum head and his wild-haired, people-punching cohort.

As he was beginning to despair, he finally saw Logan heading toward him at a brisk and purposeful pace.

Neither man smiled, both stayed grim.

It was not a happy reunion as such.

_He's going to punch me again, isn't he?_

Logan didn't.

Though he didn't exactly hug Hank either.

"Way to throw a tantrum there, Bub," he deadpanned, folding his muscular arms across his chest. "I've had to listen to that guy gripe and moan for two days straight."

Hank shrugged, a slightly sardonic expression alighting on his face.

"Ten years," he retorted.

Logan huffed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

"Yeah, okay, I'da run away too."

Hank shrugged and opened his mouth.

"Shut up and listen," Logan demanded.

_You know, people spend an exorbitant amount of time telling me to shut up. I hardly talk as it is._

"This thing's about to start and you two have to work together with me so we can stop it. It's still going to happen otherwise I wouldn't be here right now."

Hank thought of mentioning the immutable river of time but the wolverine was on a roll.

"Now I know you broke up with him and ran off with your psychotic, crazy girlfriend . . ."

Hank momentarily bristled at all the wrong things Logan had just thrown out of his mouth.

" . . . but you two have to fix this. Now."

Logan glanced around at the crowd steadily streaming onto the White House lawn and then back to Hank.

"And you've got about five minutes."

Hank sighed. Logan eyeballed him with a set 'I'm waiting, Bub' expression.

Hank went.

Charles was sitting near the metal detectors, glaring at the ground in front of him.

Hank's gut twisted and clenched, phantom rage and pain raking its claws through his already bruised soul.

Charles looked up and his jaw tightened.

"Hello, Hank."

_Hello, you vindictive bastard. _

"Hello, Charles."

As he looked upon the broken man whom he had once highly regarded, Hank found himself lost in a sudden, vicious daydream.

_Moving to shake Charles' hand and suddenly launching himself forward to punch him in the face, breaking his nose, blood spewing everywhere._

_Logan advancing from behind to intervene, Hank throwing an elbow backward into his face as well. _

_Logan, growling, dropping to a knee. Hank upending the Charles' wheelchair, spilling the disabled man unceremoniously out onto the rough concrete._

_Tossing a dismissive glance back at the rising, furious Logan._

"_Take care of him yourself, Future Man. I'm all done here."_

_Stomping off, never looking back. Somehow finding Raven, taking his stand by her for better or worse. Never looking back. Never leaving her side._

_Caring for the boy who was not his own. Raising him as his own son as the three of them traveled the land, uplifting and encouraging and strengthening their Mutant Brotherhood. _

The vision evaporated as his hand met Charles' and the telepath gripped it firmly.

Hank started to draw back but the man removed his amber sunglasses to look Hank squarely in the eye. His gaze seemed haunted.

"I am so sorry, my friend. What I did was unforgivable. To her and to you."

Hank said nothing.

Charles continued.

"I swear to you that I will never do that to another human or mutant ever again."

Hank continued to wait.

"If I ever take control of a person's mind or speak through them again it will be for good reason and I will _never_ cause them pain regardless."

Charles stopped.

Hank felt the regret pouring off him in waves.

Logan stood behind him.

Hank decided it would have to be good enough for now.

"Let's go. I'll push the chair," he said.

* * *

**Okay, just so you know, Raven was not just using Hank at any point here or in the last chapter. She just truly wanted to make believe she could be different for a while. And she does care about him.**

**But Hank's right. She will not stop her mission just for him. In her mind, the fate of all the mutants including her son weighs on her killing Trask. Which we know is misguided but Raven doesn't.**

**And here's**** what will really kick you in the head.**

**When she had him morph in his Beast form before she ran off, it was to remind herself why she was forcing herself to continue on with her mission. Because she's fighting for him too.**

**Anyway, it's been interesting to discover different readers' reactions to the relationship development of the last chapter. I anticipated it and published anyway. Which took some guts I can tell you.**

**Poor Hank. Got bested on inventing the first cell phone by the Motorla guys only three months later. That's right, gentle readers, the first cellphone (weighing a whopping 4 pounds!) was publically demonstrated on April 3, 1973 and the Paris Peace Talks previously took place in January of the same year. Sorry, dude.**

**Nobody cares about that but me I'm sure.**

**Meh.**

**So thanks to brigid1318, Very Highly Enthusiastic Guest (get a free account &amp; rename yourself, sweetie), and MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul for offering up your individual perspectives.**

**So I lied. One more chapter to go. But ten is the end I swear.**

**And it's all done.**


	10. Long Goodbyes

I do not own X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Or the DVD. Yet. Boo.

The Story Left Untold

Chapter 10: Long Goodbyes

* * *

Everything had happened, escalated so abruptly.

Commencement of the ceremony. Presentation of Trask's sentinels. Locating of the masked Raven.

The world blowing to pieces.

Unseen Erik somehow taking control of the previously non-metaled behemoths. Opening fire like a madman, causing widespread panic and mass destruction all over the immediate area.

And dropping a sports stadium, of all possible things, on them.

Entrapping them.

And the huddled humans.

Charles, fallen beneath the rubble of the chaos.

Logan next to Hank, as surly and determined as ever.

Erik below, master of all he surveyed. And on his own most important mission.

Raven, Mystique nowhere to be seen.

_At least I know she's not dead. If she were, she'd visibly blue right now._

Asking a stupid question, receiving the answer he dreaded.

And deciding to throw some Logan aplomb in there for stubborn flash.

_Well, screw the future. I'm going to fight anyway._

And he had.

Temporarily anyway.

While Logan had fought Erik the Magneto.

Thrown like a ragdoll into a ruined car.

While Logan had inescapably disappeared.

If_ I live and we _are_ friends in the future, I'm really going to have to ask him about that._

Erik ripping a metal safety room protecting the President, the mutant murderer Trask, and numerous other cowering government officials out of the bowels of the White House.

Threatening them with their own guns while he held forth with an impassioned speech directed toward every available listening mutant in the world.

Or so Hank figured.

He'd been a little preoccupied.

Trapped in a car being ripped apart by a raging Sentinel.

Witnessing the President facing down Magneto, offering himself as sacrifice.

_Wait, no. That's not right . . ._

Utilizing his serum to melt away the beast and trick the Sentinel into believing he was human.

_Don't judge me, Raven. I don't see _you_ waving your arms around and jumping up and down like a target._

Facing his imminent death. Said imminent death turning away and heading for Erik. Falling to pieces like refuse, garbage.

No more imminent death within the vicinity.

_Thanks, Erik. I owe you one. Oh wait, no I don't._

And her, Mystique, suddenly morphing out of her disguise . . .

_Oh hey, _there_ you are!_

. . . and shooting Erik in the neck.

_Holy crap she's a good shot._

Erik the mighty, collapsing to his knees. The guns behind him following suit to clatter to the ground.

_Pity one didn't go off and shoot him in the ass._

And her, Mystique, advancing . . .

_Still favoring that leg. Need to check that._

. . . dropkicking Erik in the temple . . .

_Hey, he got a helmet, no fair!_

_. . ._and smashing the butt of the gun into the side of his head for good measure as well . . .

_Okay, I take it back. Fair._

. . . and Erik the mighty Magneto collapsing unconscious on the ground.

It would seem impossible that he had witnessed so much of the confrontation between Erik and Raven at the same time racing toward the spot he'd last seen Charles fall. The old loyalties reemerging in the face of sudden catastrophe.

But he was hyper-alert, hyper-sensitive to every movement she made.

Because it was her.

And she was not yet past saving.

And then Mystique, the damned crazy woman, spinning about-face to the terrified human men behind her, lining them (Trask presumably) up in her sights.

_Oh crap. Here it is. The moment. And I'm way over here._

And it was here now. The Moment.

The men didn't move. As if frozen in pl-

_Hello, Charles._

And she, Mystique, screamed out in fury at her telepathic brother.

His serum overdose taken massive hold, Hank couldn't lift the metal rebar that trapped Charles. Not an inch. Not an iota.

Charles Xavier, the serum headed paralyzed former professor, was their only hope.

_Don't screw it up, Charles. Please don't say anything stupid._

The man did his best. He pleaded and begged. Offered her hope.

But Hank been at her side for going on three days. Despite their shared passions of the previous night, Hank knew that she had no hope left. That she was going to do it.

And there was only one sorry option left.

"Do it, Charles. Shut her down."

_We'll do it your way. Get her back to the mansion. Figure out something together. Just be gentle with her, please._

But, as usual, Hank McCoy's words went unheeded.

Instead, Charles Xavier chose to do the one thing Mystique had been begging him to do for a very long time.

He relinquished control. He stepped back. He let her go.

And that was the one thing that finally worked.

Her determination slipped away as she drew down her sights on the diminutive Trask. Her body heaved with rising emotion. Her lovely blue face crumpled and pinched.

The moment stretched out forever. He watched her, silently calling out to her, watching, waiting, hoping.

_Please, Raven, _please_ . . ._

And she finally did it.

She dropped the gun.

The bloodied Charles sighed his relief. Hank smiled down at him, suddenly so relieved he didn't care about the events of the past.

And Mystique locked her gaze onto the human men she had just spared.

_Don't make me sorry I did this_, she seemed to be saying. _Don't you dare._

Then she pulled Erik's telepathy blocking helmet away and gave him up to Charles.

Who opened the metal controlling mutant's eyes, brought him to his feet, and bade him toss away the metal trapping the telepath.

Hank immediately reached out for him and pulled him to his feet.

_No eloquent words now, Chuck. Just shut up. We'll chat later._

Hank saw him.

Erik.

Who wanted his freedom. And his helmet.

And whose former friend, Charles would allow him the first, but not the second.

When Erik had done with his goodbyes to Charles, he turned to her.

Mystique.

And though they spoke no words, Hank could almost hear them in his overcharged brain.

_You spared them._

_Yes, I had to. _

_You shot me. _

_Yes, I had to._

_If you are not with me, you are against me._

_Yes, I know._

_I am leaving. You're staying here. _

_But I will be alone. _

_Yes, I know. But you are strong. You are a fighter._

_Yes, I am._

And then Hank watched her watch him levitate into the air.

And leave her alone.

And Hank saw her wilt.

No more mission. No more Erik.

Only her.

_I'm still here, Mystique._

And then she, Mystique, did look.

At _him_. Charles.

And once again, though Hank was no telepath, he could still hear their voices in their gazes.

_You let me go, Charles. You finally let me go._

_Yes, Raven, it was time. _

_Thank you. _

_I'm so sorry for everything. _

_I know. Me too._

_Goodbye, my sister._

_Goodbye, Charles._

And she smiled. Just a little.

And then as Hank's heart was about to burst, split wide open, she, Raven, looked upon him.

Finally looking at him.

Him who had gone through the last three long days with her. Talking and not talking, fighting and upholding. Living. And loving.

She looked at him and everything passed between them all over again.

And her unspoken words rang in his head.

_You gave me my hope back._

_I thought it was Charles._

_No, he finished it. You started it. You._

_Come with us. With me. Stay. Please._

_I can't. I have to keep going. There's more to do._

And then she smiled again and did just that.

She kept going.

He watched her, feeling his heart crack apart into a thousand little pieces. He sighed as that heart emptied out of him, draining out of his bare toes and into the earth below.

"You sure you should let them go?" he questioned Charles.

_She'll . . . she'll be alone again. She doesn't need to be alone._

And Charles replied with hope and faith.

As the good man he once strove to be, would.

And Hank wanted to believe it. So badly.

_She has to go. For her son. For others out there. But me, what do I do?_

He turned to Charles.

"Stay here . . ."

_As if you have a choice._

". . . I'll be right back."

_Maybe._

Taken aback, Charles gripped the metal rebar in front of him and Hank released his grip. Charles sagged suddenly, an alarmed expression on his face which Hank purposefully ignored.

_Man up, Charles. Time to start standing on your own two feet again. Well, metaphorically speaking, of course._

And Hank, the grown man who hid a sarcastic side along with a blue, furry, orange-eyed alter ego, ran off after the woman he loved.

He turned the corner where he had seen her last.

She was gone. No blue skinned, red haired, scaly naked woman to be seen anywhere. No blond, blue eyed beauty.

_No . . ._

He did see a male soldier in full uniform and helmet.

Who was slightly favoring his right leg.

"Mystique," he called out.

She turned slowly, as if she didn't want to, rippling back into her blue form.

He approached with no idea at all what he was going to say.

_I'm proud of you._

_I love you._

_Don't go. _

"How's your leg?"

_Lamest opening statement ever, you moron._

She smiled a little.

"It'll be fine, Hank."

They stood there, face to face.

And the possibilities and impossibilities stood between them.

Finally, he spoke again. With the same sense of disconnect he had experienced the first time he'd uttered his request.

"I want to come with you."

There was no desperation in his voice or in his soul. He wasn't recklessly running away from anything or anyone this time.

He was just reaching out to her. To be at her side. To protect her. Support her. Love her. Whatever he could do to help her.

She didn't respond, only looked deeply into his blue eyes with her yellow ones.

"Hank," she said with a gentle little smile. "You're not even wearing your shoes."

He looked down at his hairy human-looking feet. Wiggled the toes speculatively.

Looked back up at her.

And smiled a little.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

**Okay, some of you have expressed concern for Hank abandoning Charles to run off with Raven. Well, to be honest, whether Raven says yes or no, Hank's gonna make sure Charles is safe and sound before taking his next step. but he only had a few moments before she disappeared forever. Again.**

**And Hank's not running off like a little puppy after her. He does _want_ to be with her but he's also _concerned_ about her wellbeing. I mean, when the chick's alone, she tries to kill off people, right? ;)**

**Just so you know.**

**Anyway, so ends another Hank-capade. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Got something to say? Bring it on, people! I'm all ears! :D**

**I for one never expected this story in the first place and then never expected it to evolve into what it did. So that was a cool surprise.**

**Thanks to brigid1318 who's valiantly stuck through this whirlwind of a story to constantly review and give insight and advice. And never once told me to back off or take my meds (don't have any!). **

**Thanks to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, angeleye02, and my mystery guest reviewer as well for speaking up.**

**Thanks to InkInTheKeys, Sybretooth, and Abby0512x for adding your support to this story as well.**

**Thank you so much for all the readings and reviewings. You are all, vocal and silent, delightful people.**

**Good reading of whatever makes you happy! **


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